The 12 Dancing Pages
by Minuit Mystique
Summary: King Roald has a dilema, the 12 pages keep turning up every morning with worn out shoes, and absolutely no energy. Is this something sinister at work? The King enlists some help. Fairytale Adaptation for @ fiefgoldenlake dot proboards dot com


**Twelve Dancing Pages**

Once upon a time, in a far away land, King Roald had twelve pages in his palace, training to be Knights of Tortall; each one stronger and more able than the next. Year after year, many pages came and left the palace in Corus; there wasn't usually anything out of the ordinary. But this year, these twelve particular pages caused the King a lot of worry.

One of the pages was Prince Jonathan, his one and only heir. Another was the young Gareth of Naxen, Jonathan's cousin. Both were brilliant pages, and had the potential to be great knights. Amongst their fellow pages, there were many more brilliant young men, each with different strengths. Alexander of Tirragen had quiet, catlike grace in his swordsmanship. Raoul of Goldenlake was a large boy of considerable strength. Francis of Nond was a quite boy, but loyal without a fault. Alan of Trebond, the smallest of the lot, was a bright purple eyed young lad, and was far more dangerous than he appeared. Of the remaining pages, Ralon of Malven, Geoffrey of Meron, Douglass of Veldine, and Sacherell of Wellam to name a few, each had noteworthy skills of their own, but would take far too long to list.

What worried King Roald about these particular group of young pages, was the fact that they, well, they went through a lot of shoes. Each morning, the King would wake to hysterical clerks rambling at him about how all twelve pages needed replacement shoes, for theirs had been worn out. They would need new shoes each and every morning. The pages were also reportedly quite listless and tired; more so than what a normal page should be. Of more importance was the fact that no one knew how the pages were wearing out their shoes. The King ordered a curfew, and each night the pages would be locked into the pages wing; but alas, when morning came again, their soles of their shoes would be completely worn out. The twelve pages' trainers and teachers all agreed that their performance was getting worse and worse, they had barely enough energy to last through the morning's training, let alone the afternoon lessons. Strangely enough, Master Oakbridge reported that all the pages' dancing skills had improved.

Something had to be done. At last, the King announced that anyone who found out where the pages went at night and wore out their shoes would receive a Royal boon, possibly a title. It wasn't long before young men, from all over the kingdom came to the palace to try to solve the mystery. Each man had three nights to solve the mystery. No one succeeded, and one after another they left Corus in shame. Each one was given a room next to the pages, each night one of the pages brought him some wine, they all fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake until the next morning, to find all the pages' shoes worn out. The next two nights were exactly the same.

Not long after this started, some wild rumours spread like wildfire through Corus. The men who came and failed to solve the mystery all strangely went missing after leaving the palace. No one knew how it got started, but people began whispering that they would find the missing men's heads, with the brains scooped out. Those possessing the Gift would swear that the dead men's eyes glowed with a dull orange light.

~*~*~*~*~*~

One night, George Cooper, the King of the Rogues, was walking down an alley in Corus. As he turned the corner, he felt something stir behind him. Whipping around as fast as a cat, knives appeared in his hand as if by magic, and his sharp hazel eyes scanned the shadows.

"Now is that any way to treat an old friend?" A dark figure stepped out with a mischievous chuckle.

"Kyprioth," George lowered his arms, but didn't put his knives away. "What brings you to my little corner of Corus?"

"You know about the King's little problem? Up in the palace?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Aren't you going to help him out? Surely the mighty Rogue can solve the mystery of the little pages shoes." The God laughed mockingly.

"I don't know, I might," George narrowed his eyes and wondered what Kyprioth was playing at this time.

"You might want to; sooner rather than later. I think you'll find it interesting." Kyprioth turned and casually walked away. "Oh, you might want to take this, it could be useful." He threw a light cloth bundle over his shoulder and disappeared.

Catching the cloth with his fingers, George squinted at it suspiciously. After poking at it with his knife, it unfurled into a cloak. One eyebrow arched up in amazement when he draped the cloak over his arm, and saw the arm disappear. Whistling softly, George strolled off grinning to himself and thought, _with a cloak t' turn me invisible, why not play the Trickster's game and give the King a hand? A Royal reward would sure come in handy._

~*~*~*~*~*~

George was greeted warmly by the King, just as the others were, and was given a room in the Pages wing. As he was getting ready for bed that night, page Alan came in and brought him a glass of wine. While thanking the boy, George was struck by his bright purple eyes. _Curious_, he thought to himself. His Sight was telling him there was something about the boy, but he couldn't put his fingers on what exactly.

"Evenin', I'm George Cooper." He picked up the glass of wine and sniffed it carefully. "If you don't mind me sayin' so, I like your looks; we don't see many purple eyes like yours."

Startled, Alan looked at him, and felt something stir, deep down inside. This one had a look about him; he appeared sharper than the others. His eyes sparkled, and Alan felt a sudden strong liking for this George Cooper. "I'm Alan, of Trebond. Most people think purple eyes are strange, or unnatural."

George pretended to drink the wine. Something in it smelled off. He hadn't made it this long as a Rogue without being able to spot drugged wine. "Most people aren't me." _And most people haven't met the Trickster,_ George thought to himself.

Alan felt George's the weight of intelligent gaze and was suddenly afraid he might see too much; as Alan had a secret. Alan was born Alanna, but she'd never wanted to go to a convent and become a meek little lady. So instead, she pretended to be a boy, and took her twin's place at the palace. Telling herself she was just being silly, her Gift would shield her secrets, Alanna bowed and left the room. "Have a good night, George Cooper, and sleep well."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, all the pages got up, put on their finest and their new shoes. Alanna found Jonathan and said, "Maybe we shouldn't go. I have a feeling tonight our luck is going to turn."

Jon took her to look in on George, only to find him wrapped up in blankets and snoring. "See Alan? You're always worrying, and there's no need. He's fast asleep, just like the others. Stop worrying." Alan kept looking at George after Jon turned away, she couldn't get rid of that strange feeling. Assured that he was indeed sleeping, she finally turned and followed Jon.

The others were equally dismissive of Alanna's worries. "You're just trying to get out of it. You never want to dance at parties Alan." Gary laughed, and the others agreed.

"Of course Alan's scared, what a coward." Ralon muttered, earning a glare from Raoul and Gary, who were close enough to hear.

"Let's go," Jon announced. He went to his bed and tapped on it three times. It sank into the ground, revealing a candlelit stairwell. One by one the pages descended, Jon in the lead, and Alanna last, casting one final look behind her.

George, hearing the pages' footsteps fade away, stopped pretending to sleep, and threw on his cloak. He grinned as his hands disappeared, and carefully followed them down the dark, spiralling stairs, close behind Alanna. As he turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, George came to a sudden halt; Alanna had slowed down. His cloak brushed her arm as he almost crashed into her.

"What was that?" Alanna spun around, and peered up the stairs. "I felt something on my arm." George held his breath.

"What was what Alan? It was probably the wind, come on, keep up." Jon called back to her.

Giving the stairs one last glare, Alanna moved on, grumbling to herself. "Wind? What wind? There's no wind underground Jon."

As they continued forward, they emerged from the dark stairwell into a glowing corridor of trees. These trees had leaves of silver, shimmering with a soft light. _These will fetch a pretty copper or two._ George stared in wonder. _I'd better take some as proof, for the King of course._ He grinned to himself. As he broke off a branch and tucked it beneath his cloak, a loud crack echoed down the corridor.

Alanna started and reached for her weapon. "What was that? I told you something was wrong."

"Alan," Jon signed, "someone must have dropped or broken something above us in the palace. Let's keep going."

Next they came to another shining corridor of trees, this time with leaves of gold; glittering and mesmerising. Again, George broke off a branch, _for proof_; and again, a loud crack reverberated down the corridor.

"They broke something twice?" Alanna sniped at Jon.

"Don't be silly Alan, it's probably the mages, experimenting or something."

Finally they passed through a corridor of amazing trees with leaves of diamond, sparkling and glittering. Strangely enough, George thought some of the diamonds sparkled with a slight orange tinge. But when he looked closer, it was gone. Shrugging, he broke off another branch, _as proof_, and same as before, a loud crack resonated down the corridor.

Alanna didn't bother commenting this time, knowing Jon would just shrug it off, but kept her hands close to her dagger.

As they emerged from this corridor, they came upon a great underground river. Along the shore, twelve boats waited. Beside each boat stood a beautiful princess, each one looked dazzling and serene, but George somehow saw something haunting in their gaze. One by one, the pages got into the boats with the princesses, and each boat glided over the lake, pulled by an unseen force. Scrambling, George just managed to get into a boat with Alanna before it left the shore.

When the far side of the river came into view, George saw a brightly lit palace. Lively music drifted out over the river. _What sort of magic is this, _George thought to himself, _another palace under the palace?_

Once the boats docked on the other side, the young couples hurried towards the music, and George followed. Each page danced the night away with a beautiful princess, in a grand ballroom; its walls lined with gilded decorations. Food and wine flowed abundantly, seemingly coming out of nowhere. George thought he might as well amuse himself, and began dancing too. Whenever a page put down his goblet of wine, he drained it dry, so when he picked it up again it was empty. All the while, he watched the smallest purple-eyed page. He didn't seem to be dancing as eagerly as the others. The lad's smile looked forced and uncomfortable. The other pages all looked dazzled by the princesses' beauty, and halfway in love – all droopy eyed and dopey smiles. Alan's purple eyes were still sharp, constantly sweeping across the room.

Alanna danced with the princess and felt extremely awkward. A nagging little voice in the back of her head told her something was wrong here. But she just couldn't manage to think what was wrong. She looked up when the princess spoke to her, and met her clear blue gaze. Something in the mysterious princess' eyes sparkled, and for a little while, Alanna felt like she was floating – happy and free – and wanted to stay here forever. Then she'd bite her lips, and snap out of it, shaking the soft foggy thoughts out of her head. Somehow though, it would never clear completely. It was like the answer was just out of her reach, if only she could manage to break clear of this delightful fog.

_There is somethin' special about that lad Alan. _George studied him closely. _He doesn't seem t' be as far under this spell as the rest of them. And if this isn't the work of a spell, then I'm the Graveyard Hag. _

The pages danced until it was almost time for the third bell, and their shoes were all worn through and they had to stop. They took the boats back across the river and said their goodbyes on the other side, promising to return tomorrow. George rushed ahead of the pages, and scrambled back into bed. When Jon and Alanna returned tired and exhausted, George was snoring loudly.

"See Alan, we didn't need to worry about him, the wine worked perfectly, just like with the others."

Still troubled, Alanna slowly followed the others into bed. Every night, as she got into bed, she thought to herself, _I'll need to talk to someone about those princesses_; and every night as sleep claimed her, that thought disappeared.

~*~*~*~*~*~

George decided not to say anything straight away, but to see if he can learn any more the next two nights. Each night was the same. George followed the pages and watched them dance with the princesses. Every one of the pages acted more and more smitten with their princess; everyone except Alan. _What was so special about that lad?_ George wondered. _Why is he not completely under the spell?_ His suspicious mind leapt to the obvious conclusion, but his guts dismissed it. _The lad can't be responsible, there's not enough Gift in him for this. Besides, my instincts about him are good, and my instincts have never failed me yet. _

On the third night and final night, George took a goblet as evidence, planning what he would say to the King. But when he got back, he decided to do a little more spying. After the pages returned and checked that George was still asleep, he got back up and headed towards Alan's room. Hearing the lad moving about, George carefully pushed open the door a little, and peaked inside. Stifling a gasp, he immediately turned away. Since becoming the Rogue, not much managed to surprise him, or else he wouldn't last as the Rogue. But what he saw inside the pages room came as a great surprise. The room was dark, the only light a soft candlelight – but the figure he saw was unmistakably that of a lass. _So that's why he's not as smitten with those princesses as the other pages._ George thought as his brain recovered enough from the shock. _He's a she, and whoever concocted this spell doesn't know. Why would they, who would've thought a lass could become a page?_

Still reeling from the surprise, George finally went to bed.

*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, George was brought before the King in a private audience. Taking out the branches with leaves of silver, gold and diamonds, (which looked quite a bit smaller than what he originally broke off), and the goblet, he told the King everything. Amazed, King Roald sent for the pages immediately and questioned them. Upon being presented with the proof, not a single one of the pages denied it. When asked why they didn't tell anyone what was going on – didn't they think it was strange – the pages didn't have a clue. The thought simply never entered their heads.

An angry King Roald moved all the pages, and squires too just in case, to another wing of the palace. He had all the mages he could get his hands one search the old pages wing top to bottom, and under Jonathan's bed. They found a secret passage leading to the catacombs under Jon's bed, but not a single trace of the beautiful corridors of silver, gold, and diamond trees; and certainly no underground rivers, palaces, or princesses.

George was hailed as a hero, the only man to solve the mystery. King Roald offered him anything he liked as a reward. George felt the Lord Provost eyeing him – and strangely enough, the charming Duke Roger of Conte also gave him a look that put George's hackles up – decided leaving the palace sooner rather than later was smartest.

"Such a grand boon is not t' be considered lightly your Majesty." George told the King. "Might I have more time t' consider it, and call upon your Majesty for the boon when I need one?" Of course the King agreed, and sent George on his way.

George left the palace, carefully guarding his back, and vowing to keep an eye on the interesting lass; that Alan of Trebond.


End file.
